By Uri Geller
We were eating in a restaurant in New York City, Yoko was with us, so this was after their big breakup and reconciliation. Yoko was expecting their child, Sean, and John was excited -- he was going to love this baby day and night: feed him, change him, teach him to talk, teach him to love music.
He did all of that. And he was going to watch him grow into adolescence, through the tumbles from bicycles and terrors of schooldays, from reading to dating to college. He never got to do that. John started talking about UFOs.
He said he believed life existed on other planets, that it had visited us, that maybe it was observing us right now. He took me to a quieter, darker table, lit a cigarette and pointed its glowing tip at my face.